Penance at Her Feet
by conventgirlvampire
Summary: She comes to her, broken and lost, submitting where once she dominated.


**Title:** Penance at Her Feet

**Chapter:** 1

**Characters/Pairings:** Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez; implied: Quinntana and past mentions of Brittana and Faberry; FaPezBerry endgame.

**Word Count:** 2,736

**Spoilers:** Up to 4x14 "I Do"

**Summary: **She comes to her, broken and lost, submitting where once she dominated.

**A/N: **Wrote this for J.R. Boone who asked for more. Dude, here is more. This first chapter written for the prompt here:

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**A/N2: **While I'm posting this now, I won't be updating for a while because I have to do some research as this fic is going to delve into things I don't know much about. I can't say when I'll update, just that I won't leave this hanging.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it. Never did.

* * *

**Chapter One**

Skin brushes against skin as they dance, the music cascading over them and drowning all else. She thinks there is something magical about this night, though, and she laughs silently at the thought, it is not the kind of magic found in Disney films and their ilk.

No, this is something else entirely, something that binds them together and breaks their hearts as they wish and want and hope for the two girls they long for. This is magic from the darker tales, twisting around them and pushing her to the blonde while it pushes Quinn against her.

It is a force that she cannot control yet it also gives her power, power over the girl moving against her. She runs a hand down Quinn's back and feels it in the way she submits so easily to her touch, arching into her and seeking more even as she moves away from her.

In the dark of the club, their fingers find each other's and she entangles them, pulling her close once more until they are flush. Quinn is breathing heavily against her, her heartbeat matching the rhythm of the girl's breaths.

Her skin is heated and she feels as if she will consume herself with the fire in her blood if she does not move, does not do something soon. She wants…she wants to feel her, to taste her and to bring her as close to the edge as she can, as many times as she can before exhaustion can claim them.

It is a surprising turn for her thoughts to take but she cannot deny that this is what she wants now. This is what she craves and she cannot help but want to take it now, take it where others can see so that she can lay a claim on the beauty before her.

Quinn tugs at her hand and she meets wide-eyed fear. She feels it too but, rather than empowering her in the same way, it seems to scare her. She knows why, knows that the other girl does not allow herself to feel anything, much less this, and that is what brings her out of her delusions and into the present where her best friend needs her to be there and think.

She pulls her out of the room, out of the building and soon they are on their way back to Quinn's apartment, a walk reminiscent of a drunken night just a week ago when they had both been brave enough to take that plunge. Or was it bravery?

She cannot recall what their motives were, only that there was this blinding need driving them to the brink of either destruction or bliss. It probably does not even matter anymore but she always was one for knowing things about other people that they did not want anyone to know, always was one for using that against them.

Looking at Quinn now, though, she knows that she cannot use the information she holds against her, not now that she knows how much it hurts to truly be alone the way that Quinn always has. At the very least, she owes her that much.

The only parts of their bodies that touch are their fingers but she thinks that that is enough for now. Unlike the last time, this need does not threaten to destroy them quickly but, rather, slowly, like the rot and decay of natural death. Only, this is sweeter, more sensual and lacking in anything meant to dissuade her from pursuing this course of action.

That tenuous link means much more than a pressing of bodies together for a quick fuck, means much more than the games they are so wont to play with each other, against each other. It is everything and it is nothing in the grand scheme of things but she does not care about that. All she knows is that she has Quinn Fabray once again at her mercy and it is all that matters to her.

Ever since the start of high school, since the start of their strange relationship that always walks the line between love and hate, this is all she has wanted. To have Quinn be the one below her for once has always been what she has wanted more than anything save her desire for Brittany.

Too long has she been the one in second place, the one everyone only ever looked at after Quinn was gone. This time, the one in charge, the one in the spotlight is her and she revels in it.

When they get to the apartment she does not start immediately. Instead, she forces Quinn to the couch and kneels before her, eyes mapping out every inch of that creamy, fair skin of hers.

She wants to remember this, wants to engrain every part of Quinn into her mind until it is impossible to forget that the blonde before her has ever been anything else but her lover. It is something she has determined since their meetings began in earnest at the start of winter and she will follow through with it. There is no denying that; not here and certainly not now.

Hazel eyes follow hers as she examines the body before her. Her fingers are tentative as they trace invisible patterns on every inch of visible skin and she can feel the way Quinn trembles beneath her touch, no matter how fleeting, how ghostlike it really is.

She wonders at this reaction, questioning whether Quinn is truly ready for this right now. After all, this is the first time they will do this sober, neither having indulged at the club – the music and their proximity to each other was enough to be intoxicate their minds without the help of alcohol – and she does not want this if Quinn is not completely sure. It would not be worth it if she was not and, for some unfathomable reason, she wants this to mean everything tonight.

"Q?" she asks, voice quiet as if she is afraid that she will break the magic surrounding them should she speak louder. "Are you…?"

"Yeah," she says, hands shaking as she touches Santana's fingers. "I…I think I am."

"That's not…I can't do this if you're not sure."

Quinn does not answer her, instead surging forward and off the couch. The kiss catches by surprise and the desperation from their last time is still there, magnified and clearer now, telling her that Quinn needs to do this for some reason that she cannot understand.

She wraps a hand around the blonde's waist, flipping them over and getting up onto her knees so that she is hovering over her. She should do it here, get it over and done with quickly lest the building desire becomes too much but she cannot. There is something about the way Quinn looks at her, something about the way that she seems to be pleading that tells Santana that here and now are neither the place nor time.

"Come," she says, standing up and pulling the other girl with her. "This isn't…we shouldn't do it here, not like this right now anyway."

She leads her into the bedroom and pushes her to stand in the middle of the room. Circling around her, she cannot help but think that the blonde looks so small just then, scared and alone in that fear, so, so alone.

It probably should not be so appealing, this brief glance into Quinn's weakness but she finds herself getting off on it, finds herself attracted to the way that she shrinks away from the very touch she craves anytime Santana gets to close. She gets off on the power that she seems to have over her reaction to her and they have barely even so much as touched yet.

She comes to a stop behind her, wondering what she should do first. There is so much that she wants to do to her, so much that she wants to explore and she finds herself at a stalemate, unable to make her next move for the moment.

Her body decides for her as she moves her hair aside to reveal her neck, bare save for the cross that is ever present. When she gets her first taste of Quinn's skin, she cannot help but think that she tastes like sorrow and isolation. Certainly, as she licks and sucks on the side of her throat, she sounds like it as she moans from the sensations no doubt coursing through her as Santana works.

Slowly her hands knead the girl's breasts over her shirt, rubbing, pinching, pulling as Quinn arches into her, seeking more and more contact as time goes on, slowly moving as if to allow her as much as she needs to fully experience and explore.

The need to taste more, to feel more begins to build and she starts to undo the buttons of her shirt, gradually exposing Quinn's bra-clad breasts and bare abs to her exploring hands. She leaves the shirt on though, not quite ready to take it off completely.

Moving to the front, she kisses her softly, one hand sliding down to grasp Quinn's, their fingers tangling together, as the other is used to pull her closer. Quinn is pliant to her will, melting into her easily and she finds that she loves the feeling of having the girl pressed against her, muscles heaving from the lack of air as their mouths work together in unison.

She wonders briefly if Rachel has ever felt her like this, if Quinn has ever gathered up the courage that she needed to tell her the truth. When she had been living in New York, the diva never gave an indication either way but Santana knows better than to trust such things. Having spent most of her teenage life hiding, she knows that saying nothing can be just as deceitful as denials and affirmations.

Pulling away from the kiss, she allows herself to meet Quinn's eyes just once. Darkened from lust and want, there is a hunger in there that threatens to consume her, a hunger not for dominance but for submission, a hunger to submit and be controlled. She recognises it easily enough but this is Quinn Fabray and, though she is sure of herself and her abilities, she can never be sure of the girl before her.

Moving backwards, she walks them over to the bed until she finds herself sitting on the edge with Quinn hovering over her, knees on the mattress either side of her body. Once upon a time this position would give Quinn the power to dominate her but Santana knows that this time, the control is hers and she gladly takes it, hands reaching out to caress the skin on display before her.

She thinks that this is what beauty must be like embodied, a woman in passion just from the sensation of skin on skin. That is what Fabray is, really, and, despite having seen it before, she cannot help but marvel at the vision before her. It is always different and always new and she wonders why she has not allowed herself to see this before.

Pressing her lips to the underside of Quinn's jaw, she slowly makes her way down, sucking and biting on her skin at random intervals. Throat, shoulder, clavicle, the top of her breasts, she makes sure to taste it all, committing her path down her body to memory just in case this is the only time that she is allowed outside the haze of alcohol.

She does not need it anyway, the very act they commit to sober holding an intoxication of its own. There is no denying that it gets to her head and infects her like a disease, disarming her body's defences until she is vulnerable to attack from Quinn despite being the one in charge.

Shaking her head free of such thoughts, she stops before she can reach Quinn's abs and pushes the shirt off, exposing Quinn's torso completely to her gaze. She takes it all in, eyes hungry for more as she surveys the body before her.

There are scars all over, faint white lines from the accident and from Quinn's own despair and torment. She touches them one by one, knowing exactly where each and every one has come from, hating the family that they came from, the father who caused it, the mother who allowed it to happen, the sister who did not care. She may not have always like Quinn but this was something she never would have allowed to happen if she could help it.

"San," Quinn breathes above her, "please…"

This triggers something in her and she flips and moves them until Quinn is lying below her, hands gripping the sheets on either side of her as Santana rolls her hips down into hers. Her eyes are wild and her breathing erratic and she is surprised that they can both be worked up from so little.

Stripping off her shirt and leaning down, Quinn's hands moving to grasp at her sides, she leans down to bring their lips together again. There is no depth to the kiss, not at first anyway, and even when it becomes more, it still does not become untamed.

"Stay close," she says against Quinn's lips, "Just…stay close, okay?"

She is not sure why she says that but she just knows that she needs to feel Quinn against her, a constant in this haze of sex and need. It is as if the spell will break if they separate and she does not want that, does not want to leave this thing that they have created between and around them just yet.

As one of Quinn's hands comes up to grasp at her shoulder, she takes the other and guides it down between their bodies until it is resting against her stomach. She does the same with her own hand and she is acutely aware of the way Quinn's muscles are responding to her touch, the girl too close to becoming more of a quivering mess than she already is.

Moving so that she can nip and suck at the skin just below Quinn's ear, she whispers, "Follow me."

She slips her hand into Quinn's underwear, passing her fingers through neatly trimmed curls and rubbing at the girl's clit and really, she is glad to have given that instruction because they move in sync, rubbing and pinching and circling until they are driven crazy by need.

There is no need to tease each other so, after gliding fingers down and through soaked folds entry is immediate and welcomed. She clenches around Quinn's fingers and feels the girl doing the same against hers and it takes all of her will power not to come before her. She wants this to be good for Quinn and she knows that she needs to get Quinn off soon, if not for her then for herself.

This is where they differ, Santana fucking Quinn fast and hard while Quinn fucks her erratically and without rhyme or reason, almost too lost in her own pleasure. She does not mind this. It just makes it easier to resist her own orgasm as she plunges her fingers in and out of Quinn, scissoring them and rubbing the heel of her palm against her clit as she does so.

Then Quinn is coming, arching against her, her name on her lips and she allows herself to finally lose herself in her own pleasure. Moving against the shaking girl, she fucks herself on Quinn's fingers as much as the other girl is fucking her, grinding down against her hand every time she takes them in, and soon she finds herself tumbling over the edge, her own orgasm causing Quinn's name to leave her lips in a chanting rush that she cannot control.

Collapsing against her, she pauses to breath for a moment before rolling off of her. Turning to look at her, she notices the tears falling down Quinn's eyes again and she moves to wipe them away.

"It's okay," she whispers as she pulls her close, because here in here own sanctuary is the only place where Quinn will break down. "We'll figure it out, promise. Just…sleep now and we'll take in the morning."

Closing her eyes, she hopes that she can keep that promise.


End file.
